


New Roommates

by notenoughtogivebread



Series: Klaine Advent 2014 [8]
Category: Glee
Genre: Blaine and Sam Are Fanboys, Friendship, Gen, Season/Series 05
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-24
Updated: 2015-07-24
Packaged: 2018-04-11 01:10:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4415258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notenoughtogivebread/pseuds/notenoughtogivebread
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for Klaine Advent 2014. Blaine has nightmares after he moves out of the loft. Sam might have a cure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	New Roommates

The first night alone was hard for Blaine, Sam could tell. It was like being back in the motel room, trying to sleep with the always-restless Stevie and with Mom sitting up late sewing and mending, altering the donated clothes to fit the kids by the light of the small table lamp. Blaine just couldn’t get comfortable without Kurt. Which was sort of odd, because hadn’t he slept alone for like 16 years before Kurt came along? At about 3 a.m., Sam almost gave up and climbed into bed with Blaine. But this time it turned into an honest to God nightmare, with flailing limbs and all. No, sleeping with Blaine would be worse than with Stevie.

Still, he slipped out of bed and went and got Blaine a glass of water for when the nightmare ended. Which it did as he came back in the room. Blaine looked so small there, sitting up wide eyed, trying to figure out where he was. “Hey, Blaine. You okay, dude?”

“Oh. Sam. Hi. I’m sorry, did I wake you?”

“You were having a nightmare, so I got you some water. I don’t know—maybe I yell when I have them, but my throat always hurts when I wake up from bad dreams.”

“I wasn’t yelling, was I?”

“No, you just looked like Frodo in the Dead Marshes, you know?”

__________________________________________________ 

So that’s how they came up with the idea of the marathon _Lord of the Rings_ extended version viewing party, with just the two of them. They thought about asking Artie, but he was too critical of the genius that was Peter Jackson. Sam couldn’t take a whole day of that. And that was okay, because they ended up having to put it off for a week anyway, because Kurt dragged Blaine back to the loft after their date night on Friday. The the next weekend Artie had a date with some scary chick to, like, a feminist film festival and couldn’t come. Which, sweet. And Mercedes had booked studio hours all day Saturday, so she wouldn’t feel like she was missing out. And it was even better because Blaine found a website with LOTR recipes for breakfast and SECOND breakfast and elevenses… “This is so cool, Sam. We could like cook all of these this week and then eat like princes all day Saturday—or, well, like hobbits.”

It was like the old days, wandering all over the borough on quests Blaine set for him: banana leaves to wrap the lembas bread and culinary lavender for scones for afternoon tea with Galadriel and beer from New Zealand for, well, awesomeness. And Blaine was busy too, and that was good because between his classes and his studying and dance rehearsals and then cooking when he got home, he fell into bed and slept, well, not like a baby, but more soundly than he had that first night. Kurt thought the whole project was crazy and fun, though he was glad he wasn’t invited and definitely scheduled rehearsal with Elliott and Dani on Saturday to get out of it, just in case. But he made Blaine promise to bring some leftovers to Monday night dinner. Which, okay, if there were any, which Sam was planning on NOT happening. By week’s end, Sam was feeling more than a little like a genius. This was almost as good an idea as Nightbird and the Blonde Chameleon.

And when he actually got to eat the food Blaine prepared, he _knew_ he was a genius. Plus he decided Kurt was nuts to NOT want to eat Blaine’s cooking. Okay, so he wasn’t that big a fan of the porridge first thing, but second breakfast (which they ate just after Weathertop), with fat sausages from that great German butcher and little fried tomatoes and mushrooms mixed in with the buttery new potatoes and Blaine’s perfectly fried eggs, made him really glad Blaine had moved in.

__________________________________________________

And after he settled down to watch that hot Liv Tyler ride Frodo across the river Bruinen, Blaine trailed into the room after him and tossed at apple at him, just missing his head. “Hey! Now I’m gonna have to rewind so I can watch that again.”

“It’s not in the book, though,” Blaine said as he sat down on the pile of pillows and blankets on the ground with his own apple. “Well, Frodo is, and the River is. But the pretty girl elf—she’s just for fanboys like you, Sam.”

“Not fair. Lauren Z. said her role got made bigger because Peter Jackson and Philippa and them started thinking about it, and they were like, holy crap, there’s like no women in Tolkien’s stories. And you can’t make a movie with NO girls.”

“Tell that to the guys on Cocky Boys.”

It was Sam’s turn to throw something at Blaine, so he thumped him with a pillow. “You’re awful! And don’t act like there’s not plenty of pretty elf dudes for fanboys like YOU.”

Blaine hummed shyly at that, and tucked the pillow under his head. “Okay. Let’s go back and watch the lovely Evenstar. But you know, we really don’t rewind. That’s like, something my dad would say.”

They spent the day like that, teasing, eating, laughing, cheering on the Men and Dwarves and Elves, wiping more than a few tears away when Gandalf fell and during Aragorn and Boromir’s final embrace. But maybe they should have gone easy on the beer they drank in celebration with Merry, Pippin, and Treebeard, because by the time the sun rose on Helms’ Deep, Sam was feeling a little loopy.

But Blaine had made a feast to celebrate Rohan’s victory, and Sam wasn’t saying no to roast potatoes and giant turkey legs and mulled cider. Blaine wanted to celebrate, and played some kind of jig on the keyboard that he held across his lap, but Sam didn’t want to dance. He climbed onto the couch to eat his turkey leg as they started the movie, and woke up hours later sprawled across it, still holding the turkey. Blaine was curled up on the floor by the keyboard and _The Return of the King_ played on. Sam nudged his friend with his toe. “Hey, sleepyhead. We’re missing it.”

On the screen, Aragorn rallied the troops before the Black Gate of Mordor. Blaine sat up, looking more like a hobbit than ever, with his dazed eyes and wild hair, the imprint of a banana leaf on his face.

“Dude, I think you fell asleep on the lembas.”

Blaine stood and stretched as Sam paused the movie. “I think I fell asleep when they were on the Paths of the Dead. I missed the Oliphaunts.”

“Yeah, and I missed ‘I am no man!’ Should we go back?”

“Nah. We know the story. But how ‘bout if I make us some coffee to have with the last of the lembas? We have to go to Mount Doom yet.”

He busied himself in the kitchen, then climbed onto the couch next to Sam with the coffees and lembas (his version was like Sam’s grandmother’s most buttery shortbread) and some of the berry tarts from lunch. “Let’s watch Aragorn’s Saint Crispin’s Day speech again.”

“Hey, I thought you were an elf guy. You like Aragorn?”

“I LOVE Aragorn, Sam. Just play the speech.”

_____________________________________________________

They started out on opposite ends of the couch, but by the time Sam and Frodo were sitting on the side of Mount Doom, the Ring destroyed, Blaine was close to falling asleep again, his head resting on Sam’s shoulder. That must have been how he knew that Sam was crying again, crying with Samwise at the thought of losing Rosie Cotton. He sat up and took his friend’s hands, looking seriously into his eyes and mouthing Frodo’s words as Elijah Wood said them: “I’m glad to be with you, Samwise Gamgee, here at the end of all things.”

Sam wiped his eyes and said, “Right back at you, Mr. Frodo-Blaine. This was our best idea ever.”

And even though sleeping on the couch was supposed to not be so good for your back, and they had all the mess to clean up Sunday morning, still it was the best night of sleep either of them had had since Blaine moved in.

Mercedes had the pics to prove it.


End file.
